She curtsied to Wei Ting from afar.
The wind lifted the hem of her crescent-white skirt, which was intricately embroidered with wave patterns. Her slender waist bent slightly, her figure as graceful and ethereal as swirling snow in the wind.
Such perfect poise should have been captivating.
Yet Wei Ting turned his face away, a storm of emotion brewing in his eyes.
Wei Liru watched her brother, surprised by his expression. It seemed to carry a hint of... disgust, mixed with another emotion she couldn't comprehend.
She rarely saw Wei Ting lose his composure like this.
It was common to see disgust on others' faces, but never on Wei Ting's.
In her memory, her brother Wei Ting had achieved success at a young age. He was wise and a brilliant strategist, always facing every situation with an effortless and gentle calm.
The only time an anxious look would cross his face was when she was crying.
